


Drink With Me

by 551



Category: RedLetterMedia RPF
Genre: M/M, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 18:37:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20178883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/551/pseuds/551
Summary: They’ve known each other for years, a lot of things have changed, but the way Mike thinks about Rich hasn’t.





	Drink With Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is just self-indulgent, it was written at 1am as I was falling asleep just for the sake of being written I guess. I might come back with another better more fleshed out chapter, but for now it’s just bare bones.

It starts like this, in a dim room caught in the blue glow of the television. It’s hard to concentrate sometimes, the beer makes him sluggish and the movies drag on and on, plots ultimately leading nowhere with sudden bursts of poorly shot action, it’s a wonder Mike doesn’t pass out during every screening.

Or it would be if Rich wasn’t there. 

He plays a game through most films, even when the pacing is good, in fact, better that it is, that way his leaps forward disguise the tiny movements he makes, inching closer and closer to Rich’s side. So close that their arms nearly brush and Mike can feel the warmth that radiates off him. When he’s brave enough he’ll casually throw an arm over the back the couch coming as close as he dares to wrapping it around Rich’s shoulders. And it feels good to be so near to him, to be able to lean over and half-whisper some shitty joke into Rich’s ear, just loud enough so the microphone catches it, that way, maybe, it won’t seem so intimate. 

Some nights he’s got it worse than others. A few shots of tequila before a steady slog of beers that disappear too fast. And on those nights he is bolder, a knee pressed against Rich’s thigh, he still cringes at the memory of pulling Rich close in front of all the guys and holding him there, he can pass this one off as some joke, even if it ticks him off a little bit. He doesn’t want it to be a joke, it isn’t a joke, not to him, maybe to Rich though. And that doesn’t make him mad, just, depressed, like always.

So he drinks another beer.

And the game starts again. 

This time maybe it’s even bolder, but goddammit he’s drunk, and tilting the oversized flask into Rich’s mouth is, erotic to say the least. But maybe even more so when Mike pulls it back and presses it against his own lips. He tilts it slowly, not wanting the alcohol to wash away the taste just yet. 

He’s not even sure if he can taste anything, it’s not like they haven’t shared a glass or a can of Diet Coke before, but every time it’s been like a near religious experience for him. 

In high school it was harder to contain himself, but Rich never seemed to notice the sudden tension in Mike’s shoulders or the way he would rush off to the nearest bathroom. He wouldn’t even comment of the flush that dusted Mike’s face when he sauntered back after a breathless jerk off. 

Fuck, Mike sniffs nonchalantly, he can’t help replaying those moments in his mind. His hand would be pressed against the bathroom wall, trying to steady himself and muffle his heavy breathing as he grasped his cock and thought of Rich just a few feet away in the other room oblivious to what a sip of Coke had just done to Mike. That was a long time ago, but even now the memories make his ears burn.

Mike tries to concentrate on the table’s discussion of whatever the fuck film they watched hours ago. Rich has his car keys, Mike knows there’s no way he’d be getting home otherwise. He’s actually attempted this ploy before, albeit on nights when he was more coherent. It never went anywhere, but it was worth it for the way Rich would place a hand behind his elbow, careful not to let Mike fall over the broken beer bottles that he had tossed around that night.

A little bit of rough housing never hurt either, and Rich had been happy to join in, grabbing at Mike and pulling Mike towards him. It felt good, maybe a little too good because as wasted as Mike is it was becoming hard to will away the growing erection he was sporting beneath the table. He focuses again on whatever Jay was saying, breathing out heavily, it was clear Rich had decided Mike has had enough, booze wasn’t going to fix this problem.

Luckily he composes himself for long enough to choose the best of the worst and get himself in a fit enough state to stand up from the table, even if he is leaning just a little to one side. Something Rich catches onto, and he’s there, muttering something good natured if not a little exasperated under his breath. 

Mike gives him a playful shove, forceful enough that Rich will leave him alone for a moment and slurs more than says, “Get off me and go get your stuff.”

Rich giggles a little and throws up his hands before beating a hasty retreat towards the kitchen to gather his Tupperware.

Mike straightens his back and meanders over to his office space to get his bag. 

The rest of the crew are saying hurried goodbyes, it’s later than usual and they’ll pick up their mess in the morning. Mike sits at his desk and takes his time gathering his things together. He just can’t shake the images of Rich that his mind in its drunken stupor keeps conjuring. Rich against the wall, breathless, stunned by the strength Mike had used to push him there, but glad to finally drop this charade they’d kept up since high school. Rich pressed into the soft cushions of their couch, the blue light flickers across his face, there’s no one here to see them, no one there to make jokes, just them and the faint taste that lingers on the glasses that Rich has had pressed against his lips.

But now Mike is tasting it for real, it’s not some mind trick that he was playing on himself, no this was real, this was Rich’s mouth on his. Rich’s warm skin under Mike’s palms, his stubble pricking Mike’s cheeks. Rich’s carefully combed part would be ruined when Mike swept his hand through the soft fine hair. And maybe Rich would laugh a little, self-consciously, against Mike’s lips when his hand ran over the bald spot. 

It would be alright though, they weren’t young anymore, but they were together, they knew each other’s stories. 

Mike startles a bit when Rich comes into the office.

“Mike, what the fuck? Did you pass out or something?” He sounds concerned.

Mike scrunches his nose for a moment before raising his chin and looking down his nose at Rich when he stands. 

“No, Jesus Christ, just ready to leave, you’re so slow, if I had my keys I’d’ve been gone an hour ago.”

Rich scoffs at him and they both head out of the building. “Yeah, I’d probably drive by you in a ditch or something.” He takes care to lock up behind them and they make their way to Rich’s car.

Mike has a bit of a hard time getting into the passenger seat, Rich for some reason has it pulled all the way up to the dash, he gives up on trying to adjust it and before Rich can protest he opens the rear door and lays across the back seats, managing just barely to sit up and pull the door shut behind him before slumping forward again. 

“Don’t puke, asshole,” is all Rich says when he starts the car and backs out of the parking lot.

Mike sneers at him, but he does feel a little woozy.

The warm orange glow of the streetlights is comforting, so is the way Rich drives, slowly, like he’s taking his time. And he can afford to, the streets of Milwaukee are silent. Only every five minutes or so does a car swoosh by, gently rocking the old sedan. 

Mike is losing focus again, the car is dark enough and he figures that Rich will dump him off at home without much of a thought, he just can’t stop thinking about Rich. First just helping him out of the car, his shoulder under Mike’s arm to support him. They’d stumble a bit and laugh before they’d climb the steps and Mike would let Rich fumble around his pockets for a moment before giving him any clue where his house keys might be. 

The house would be dark and quiet as they made their way to Mike’s bedroom and there it would happen. The tension that had been building since Mike started his first beer and began sliding ever closer to Rich in the couch, close enough that their arms touched and they both felt the warm pulse of electricity course through them, would release. It would only take moments for them both to strip each other’s clothes off, the way it always does in Mike’s fantasies. 

Mike would feel Rich gasp against his mouth when finally he grasped Rich’s cock and stroked it. Finally he could tell Rich that he’d dreamed about this moment, how it would feel to make Rich come apart in his hands, he’d climaxed to that so many times in the stuffy bathroom of his home. He envisioned the pink flush and small beads of sweat that would gather at Rich’s temples and tried desperately to imagine what kind of noise Rich would make when he finally came into Mike’s hand. 

Mike feels the car slowing and rolls so that his erection is now uncomfortably pressed against the car seat. He thinks about baseball and what would happen if he puked right now.

It turns out he doesn’t need much more than that because when Rich opens the rear door after parking he looks down at Mike with a kind of pity. 

Fuck, that wasn’t sexy at all. It was depressing. 

“C’mon,” Rich says offering a hand, “ Get outta there.”

The way Rich is looking at him, when Mike takes his hand, that must have been the way Mike used to look at him when Rich would show up at his house clearly needing somewhere to escape to. High school hadn’t been great for either of them, but Rich’s home life wasn’t something that Mike envied.

Mike hadn’t wanted to throw a wrench into that by coming out as gay for his best friend who just needed some goddamn stability in his life. So he kept quiet, for years and years and now here he was, being hauled out of the backseat of a car, pitied. 

Rich does in fact shove his shoulder beneath Mike’s arm as they make their way up to Mike’s house. Although, he finds the house keys easily in Mike’s vest pocket. They climb the stairs slowly in the dark and make it all the way to the bedroom.

But Mike doesn’t turn to kiss Rich in the doorway, their clothes aren’t shucked and tossed to the floor. Instead Rich walks Mike over to the bed and pushes him off his shoulders and onto the bed. 

Mike hits the mattress with enough force to bounce a little.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “that’s hot.”

“What?” Rich titters and Mike imagines Jay looping that twenty times along with a comically startled gaze into the camera. “What did you say?” Rich repeats.

“Nothing,” Mike grunts and drags himself across the mattress so that he can press his face into the pillows. “Goodnight, Rich.”

Rich sighs and Mike can feel the pity just rolling off him in waves. Pity, pity, pity yes poor alcoholic Mike too fucking blitzed to take his clothes off let alone confess his undying love for his best friend.

“At least take your shoes off.” Rich mutters and Mike can hear him shuffling towards the door.

Mike rolls onto his back, and clumsily pulls his sneakers off, tossing them to the floor. When he stretches out on the bed he sees Rich standing in the doorway, barely illuminated by the streetlights and the moon. He’s watching him, maybe smiling just a bit. It’s tender, the pity had been replaced by some long suffering amusement at this whole state of affairs.

“Think you’ll make into work tomorrow? Or do you need me to stay here, are you gonna be sick?”

Mike thinks on this a moment. “No just go home and get some rest, I’ll text you tomorrow.”

Rich shrugs and steps away, “Suit yourself, goodnight, Mike.”

Mike watches him go, listens to his feet on the stairs and finally the door opening again before closing quietly, the metallic thump of the door being locked. 

He’s alone now.

Depressing.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Leave a comment if you can please :)


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